


To Keep Your Peace

by DoctorFluff (Nikulka)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Developing Friendship, Developing Relationship, Emotional Constipation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Linear Narrative, Psychological Trauma, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-02-10 10:25:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18658552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikulka/pseuds/DoctorFluff
Summary: "It had not started with letters, but they had become vital soon enough. It was a habit they developed as children, a little secret born when the times were simpler and they had not known the meaning of suffering just yet."In which Ignis and Ravus have a history of writing letters to one another. It is a story of their relationship over the years, through the times of betrayal, grief and hurt. How can the estranged friends mend what was broken? How do you forgive something unforgivable? Will they be able to find their peace, and perhaps, something more?





	1. I feel springtime counting its days of flaunting a novel sensation

**Author's Note:**

> So this thing has been sitting in very messy chunks on my google drive for over a year now, and I finally got around to working on it again, so, there is that. I expect to be updating every few weeks or so, depending on the vagaries of my academic workload.  
> I’ve taken a very liberal approach to canon - basically, I take what I like and brazenly disregard everything else. I also approach the plot in a rather non-linear way, but I hope the narration makes the timeline clear enough. Regardless, be forewarned, y’all.  
> Should you, at any point in the story, find something that I didn’t tag but you’d like me to, just scream at me in the comments and I’ll make sure to do so!  
> Fic title comes from: Poets of the Fall - The Ballad of Jeremiah Peacekeeper  
> Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title comes from: Poets of the Fall - You’re Still Here

It had not started with letters, but they had become vital soon enough. It was a habit they developed as children, a little secret born when the times were simpler and they had not known the meaning of suffering just yet. No, Ignis thought, as he stood at the altar of the Tidemother, looking at Ravus, a broken man brought down to his knees by grief, loss and cruel fate. They had not known it then. But oh, how fast they had learnt.

 

* * *

 

Back then… the first time the two of them met in person was when the young Prince of Lucis was visiting Tenebrae so that he could meet the future Oracle. Noctis arrived accompanied by his nurse, a handful of servants, and his relatively freshly appointed advisor, already uptight, prim and proper. Ravus, a boy at a serious age of thirteen, paid them no heed. He was not interested in playing with children, especially not when he was buried in textbooks, struggling with algebra. Still, he had been asked to keep an eye on Luna while she was playing with Noctis in the garden, so he grabbed his books and took them outside, to a small garden table, which was standing in the shadow of an old, majestic tree. He grumbled about it for a while, more on a principle rather than because he really minded. Seeing his little sister so happy – as she clearly was, dragging Noctis around to show him the entire local flora – had always caused his heart to warm up, and the weather in the early summer days was beautiful, so he truly was in no position to complain.  
  
  
As he was settling down, he nodded politely to a thin, lanky, bespectacled boy who was also reclining under the same tree, keeping a watchful eye on the young Lucian Prince. The boy returned his nod, and, to Ravus’ content, did not seem interested in any further interaction. Without further ado, Ravus busied himself with his studies, glancing every now and then at the running children and secretly smiling to himself. As hours passed, though, he found himself growing increasingly frustrated. Mathematics was never his strongest suit, and he just could not wrap his head around polynomials. He closed the book with a loud thud and hid his face in his palms, groaning in defeat.

  
“Is something the matter?” came a quiet voice from his right, and he all but jumped at being addressed so unexpectedly. He looked at the kid whose bright-green eyes were currently focused on him.

“Quadratic equations. You are too young, you wouldn’t understand,” he huffed, dejected.  
  
“Ah,” the boy pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and smirked. “Well, it just so happens that I passed my exam from polynomials the last term. Would you like me to help you?”

“What? Why would they teach that to a kid?” Ravus raised one eyebrow in disbelief.

“My duty is to serve my prince the best I can,” he shrugged, but as he looked at Noctis, there was a touch of fondness in his eyes. “Regardless. Shall I?”

“Very well,” sighed Ravus, opening the book, although frankly, he was not holding out too much hope. He counted himself as a lost cause - try as she might, his own tutor did not manage to make him understand the material - but honestly, what did he have to lose at this point?  

“Here,” the boy looked over his shoulder and pointed to the first exercise on the page. “Let’s start with this one, okay? First, you have to find the value of the coefficients...”

The time went slowly by, and Ravus’ eyes grew wider and wider. It all seemed so obvious now, how could he not have seen it before? He was solving more complex examples on his own when they were all called by the servants to the table. Getting up, Ravus looked at the boy with a tentative sort of respect.

“Thank you very much for help…” he paused, frowning. “What is your name?”

“Ah, my apologies, Your Highness,” the boy quickly bowed his head. “I seem to have forgotten to introduce myself. Ignis. Ignis Scientia.”

“Well, Lord Scientia,” smiled Ravus. “Thank you.”  
  
With the notable exception of his sister, Ravus could not say that he liked children. But, he kept musing, as he watched Ignis discreetly scolding Noctis for the improper use of tableware, that one was indeed something else.

 

* * *

 

Simpler times they were, Ignis thought, lightheaded, trying to regain focus after being knocked and held down to the ground by a group of MTs. The letters did not start after that first meeting, but they did after the second one.

 

* * *

 

It was two years later, give or take, when Ravus came to Insomnia on a courtesy visit with his mother, Queen Sylva.

He would never admit it, but he found being seated next to the Queen, listening for hours to the discussions of the adults, extraordinarily dull and wearisome. Observing the young Prince and his advisor served as a satisfactory distraction while it lasted, but they were politely excused from most of the meeting, ‘not to interrupt the Prince’s tutoring sessions’, as it was proclaimed.

In the evening, Ravus was finally allowed to retire. He was given a separate bedroom to ensure his privacy, but the unfamiliar room seemed too empty and oppressive for his likening, despite the soft carpets and sheets, a multitude of paintings, ornaments and amenities. He could not help but feel lonely. Lunafreya did not accompany them, for she had to stay home because of one childhood illness or another, and Ravus, seated alone in that grand, guest bedroom, was _bored_. He tried sleeping, but he ended up just tossing and turning for almost an hour before he finally gave up.  
  
  
He put on an overcoat and decided to go for a walk. Technically nobody allowed him to wander around the Lucian Citadel at night, but nobody explicitly forbade him from doing so either, so he concluded it to be good enough. He quietly slipped out of the room and proceeded down the corridor. He did not fear getting lost - he boasted rather impressive, keen spatial awareness - so his steps were light and confident.  
  
Suddenly, out of a side corridor, there came a poorly muffled giggle and a hushed, pointed reprimand.  
  
  
“... Noct, for the umpteen time, be quiet.”

 

With freshly piqued curiosity, Ravus directed his steps towards the voices. He raised one eyebrow as his eyes fell on the two boys hidden behind a black granite pillar, Ignis holding his hand over Noctis’ mouth. Ravus coughed lightly to attract their attention, and Ignis all but jumped at the sound, turning to face him, eyes widening at the recognition. He bowed quickly, freezing with his eyes fixed on the floor.

 

“Your Highness,” he said, embarrassment clear in his tone. “You’ve startled us.”

“Forgive me the glaring gap in my knowledge of the local customs, but are there no curfews in Insomnia?” asked Ravus, not even attempting to hide his amusement.

“Ah… well, there are,” replied Ignis, and a faint blush coloured his cheeks.

“I suppose you wouldn’t want me to tell anyone, hmm?”

“No! I mean… no, Your Highness. Please.”

Ravus grinned. This here could be the remedy for his boredom, and he found the young advisor’s embarrassment endearingly entertaining.  
  
“What are you doing, anyway?” he asked. “Apart from sneaking out with the prince, that is.”

“We… we were going out to look at the stars,” admitted Ignis.    
  
“Stargazing? I see.” Ravus paused. How did the stars look like in this part of the world? Was it possible to see them from the city which, given its name, quite befittingly never slept? Only one way to find out, he thought. “Let’s make a deal - I will not tell anyone, but I shall accompany you. I cannot allow children to be left unsupervised. How does that sound?”  
  
“Highness?” Ignis directed the question at Noctis, who looked somewhat taken aback by being asked to make the decision, and he nervously shifted his weight from one leg to the other. Ignis reassuringly squeezed his hand.  
  
“Yeah, it’s cool,” murmured Noctis, and his advisor let out a breath he did not know he was holding.  
  
“Well then, I believe we have an agreement. Thank you, Your Highness.”  

“Splendid. After you.”

 

And so, the three of them proceeded quietly through the corridors, and Ravus had to note that Ignis clearly knew what he was doing - he was familiar with the movements of the guards around the Citadel and he seemed to know exactly which way to go to avoid detection. It clearly was not the first time he was doing this. Technically, they were not leaving the grounds, but they were making their way up to the roof, so it was not like they were doing anything forbidden, right?

When they stepped out into the warm, night air, Ravus all but gasped at the sight. The horizon was bathed in a reddish glow of the city lights. The edges of the landscape outside the city were slightly blurred because of the wall supported by the Crystal. But when Ravus looked directly up he could see the stars - not as vividly as he could back home, but the skies were exceptionally clear that night, so the view was just short of breathtaking.

They made their way to the edge of the roof and sat down, Noctis nestling against Ignis to make himself more comfortable.

“I know that the view from here pales in comparison to the one from Fenestala Manor, but…” Ignis shrugged apologetically.  

“No, it’s… beautiful,” said Ravus, and he meant it.

  
And so, Ignis opened a book that he brought along and started to point out the constellations to the two princes. Ravus did not know how long they sat like that, just watching, taking in the view and unfamiliar names. His opinion of Ignis grew even higher - the advisor, though six years his junior, had already seemed to possess a wealth of knowledge on practically any subject imaginable.

Something else, indeed.  
  
  
At some point, Noctis’ head started to droop down onto Ignis’ shoulder.  
  
“I should think that that would be enough of the lesson for today,” said Ignis, smiling. “Off we go, Noct, we need to get you to bed.”

“Shouldn’t the prince have been in bed a long time ago, anyway?” asked Ravus, standing up.

“Well, shouldn’t he, _Your Highness_?” said Ignis, stressing the last two words and raising an eyebrow at him.

“This is different.”

“Of course.” Ignis kept a straight face, though his eyes were sparkling with amusement.

They came back inside, speaking in hushed tones, and were about to make for their rooms several floors down, when a clearly unamused voice stopped them dead in their tracks.

  
“And what do we have here?”

They found themselves faced with Lord Clarus Amicitia, the King’s Shield, who evidently had opinions about underage royalty sneaking around at night and was going to make them abundantly clear right this instant.

  
“Ignis, I expected more from you. You should have known better than that - what if something happened-”

“My Lord, with your permission, I think there has been a small misunderstanding,” Ravus interjected, bowing lightly. “I’m afraid that this little escapade was entirely my fault. I wished to see the Lucian sky at night and asked the prince and his advisor whether they would be so kind as to be my guides. I was unaware that it could cause such a problem and I wish to most sincerely apologise for my ignorance.”

Clarus gave him a look which clearly said that he was not buying it in the slightest, but also that he was calculating how big of a diplomatic incident arguing over this was likely to cause, and apparently came to a conclusion that it was not worth it. He settled on sternly staring the trio down, and just when they started fidgeting under his gaze, he nodded shortly.

“If you say so, Prince Ravus. But now I must ask you all to return to your rooms, and you must know, young men, that the King and the Queen will hear about this tomorrow,” he said.

  
Ravus nodded, his expression serious, accepting the scolding, as did Ignis, and Noctis avoided looking at anyone in particular.  
  
  
On the way back to their rooms they did not manage to talk freely, because Clarus assigned each of them an escort - a wise choice, motivated by his professional experience in dealing with the mischievous kids - so when they were about to part ways, they only exchanged nods and barely concealed grins. To Ravus’ disappointment, they did not manage to talk during the rest of the diplomatic visit either. Ignis and Noctis were, apparently, grounded, and Ravus managed to catch only glimpses of them in the Citadel. But, he assured himself, there would be other times.

 

  
Queen Sylva held off bringing up her son’s nightly escapade until they were seated on a train, in a private compartment, heading back to Tenebrae.

“Now tell me, Ravus, what was all that about?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Ravus smiled. Not being forthcoming with the Lucians was one thing, but this was his mother - not only his parent but also his best friend. So he told her all about it, talked at length about the Lucian sky, and the warm night air, and the constellations, and Ignis, who kept pointing them out, checking his own knowledge with the book on astronomy, though he did not really need to because would she believe it, he knew it all already? But he wanted to teach Noctis as well, so that was one way to do it. And Ravus told her about the colourful city lights which, while making the stars harder to see, were beautiful in and of themselves, and the young prince who, really, did she know, was being spoiled rotten by his advisor though he denied the allegation, but he was in good hands, he supposed, because Ignis was so protective, oh, and did she know that if he turned his head just right he could see the magic wall surrounding the city?

Queen Sylva listened to him without interrupting, and a warm smile kept playing on her lips.

“I see you’ve been making friends,” she said after he finally ran out of steam and finished his tale. “I’m glad. But next time you plan on sneaking out during a diplomatic visit, do take your poor mother along, will you?” She gave him a conspiratorial wink.

“Yes, mum!”

 

As it were, Ravus would not have the chance to take his mother anywhere ever again. Given the growing political tensions and the chronic lack of time on behalf of everyone concerned, they had not made another visit to Insomnia before… well, before.    
  
Neither of them knew it at the time, though, so they spent their way back to Tenebrae in good moods, holding amicable conversations.  


It was a morning a few days later when Ravus awoke to discover that he had received a letter. It was addressed in neat, precise handwriting of one Ignis Scientia. He smiled to himself and wasted no time in opening the envelope and beginning to read.

 

_Your Royal Highness,_

_I hope this letter finds you in good health and spirits. It was a great pleasure to have met you again, albeit the circumstances were rather unusual._

_My only regret is not having been able to thank you in person for standing up for me and Prince Noctis, and for accepting the blame that you did not have to take. Words can hardly contain how deeply I am grateful for this expression of your kindness._

_I must admit, I am eagerly looking forward to an opportunity to meet with you again._

_Yours faithfully,_

_Ignis Scientia_

 

So am I, thought Ravus, and reached for a pen and a sheet of paper to write his reply.

It was not much longer afterwards when it all went to hell.

 

* * *

 

 

The name, thought Ignis, lying sprawled on the wet stones as a white flame of agony seemed to be devouring him from the inside. The name was important. What was it about it that was important?

 _‘If you do not object, I suggest that we abandon the honorifics. I feel that there is no reason to remain overly formal. You can call me Ravus.’_  The words from the first letter he had received from the Tenebraean Prince came to the forefront of Ignis’ mind like a faint echo of the days long past.

Ah, thought Ignis, that was it. He held on to this name, making it his anchor, chaining himself to it, fighting to remain conscious even though what used to be his vision had become a uniform veil of black.

  
“Ravus,” he managed to wheeze out through clenched teeth.

“Here,” came the response, spoken in a familiar voice, and then a hand was gently placed on top of his chest. “That was rather reckless.”

  
Oh, thank gods. If Ravus had enough strength to be snarky, it meant that he was alive and well.

He had always been witty and had a penchant for sarcasm, thought Ignis. Although under the weight of the oppressive imperial boot his wit had become coloured with bitterness and had acquired a sharp edge that could cut deep to the bone.

The last time Ignis saw that kinder, softer Ravus in person was just short of a month before the escalation of imperial violence that had changed everything.

 

* * *

 

Ignis was preoccupied with his studies so he could not spend much time at Noctis’ side when he was recovering after the demon attack in Tenebrae. Besides, he had been reassured by the King that Noctis was receiving good care and that he seemed to be befriending Princess Lunafreya, which helped him put at least part of his worries aside. However, that did not stop him from asking Ravus to give him regular updates about the young prince.

 

Their correspondence had become a standard fixture of their lives. After rather awkward beginnings, they slowly opened up and got to know one another. They wrote about things large and small, about the books they have read, of the news from their countries, about politics and history. They exchanged gossip and wrote at length about interesting scientific facts. They talked about Noctis and Lunafreya, about their own studies and hobbies. Ignis could safely say that over the months, they had become rather close friends.

  
  
So when Ravus, after being bombarded with another avalanche of questions about Noctis, wrote, somehow managing to convey an eye roll through his cursive only, ‘ _why don’t you come over and see for yourself? Maybe that would finally make you stop fretting_ ’, Ignis almost begged to be allowed to take several days off his studies to travel to Fenestala Manor.  

 

And that was how he found himself seated on a train, heading to Tenebrae. Technically, it was the homeland of his family, though he himself was born in Lucis. The only thing that bespoke of his heritage was his accent - it was a clear influence of his parents’ speech, and, after they passed away, his uncle’s, which was how he acquired it in the first place. Later on, sticking to it had become a conscious choice – a little piece of home that he carried with himself wherever he went.

 

The journey was long, yet uneventful – so Ignis allowed himself to relax in his seat and thought back to the time when he was in Tenebrae. Who would have thought that mathematics could be the beginning of a friendship?   

 

When he arrived at the station, he was greeted by none other than the elder Fleuret sibling. Ignis found himself momentarily unsure – what kind of greeting would be appropriate? He settled on a slightly awkward, light bow, but Ravus waved it away, rolling his eyes.  
  
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said and pulled Ignis into a hug. The young advisor relaxed, mumbling a quick ‘ _sorry_ ,’ and with a grin spreading on his face, he returned the gesture.

 

“Come now, the carriage is waiting,” said Ravus. “We should arrive just in time for supper. I hope there were no troubles on your journey?”  
  
“None at all,” said Ignis, and could not stop himself from following up with the most pressing question. “How is Noctis?”

Ravus snorted and shook his head with a smile.  
  
“Can’t wait to see you. He has been excited since the very morning.”

“Isn’t this amount of excitement too exhausting for him?” asked Ignis, suddenly worried. “He should be resting, I’m not sure if it’s healthy for him to-”

“Ignis,” interrupted Ravus with a theatrical sigh. “Stop fretting. You will see for yourself in but a moment. Can you just relax and enjoy the ride for the next forty minutes?”

“Apologies,” said Ignis, blushing faintly, and turned his gaze to the scenery behind the window. “Oh… you are right. The view is spectacular.”

 

The carriage had just rolled onto one of the bridges that were so characteristic of the entire country, but especially the capital. The mist was filling the valley beneath, and the sun was hanging low, about to hide behind the mountain peak. The sheer vastness was making Ignis’ head spin.

“Is it possible to ever get used to such sights?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Sometimes it requires an outsider to point out the beauty that is right in front of us,” said Ravus thoughtfully.

“So it does.”

 

True to Ravus’ word, Ignis did not have to worry for long. Once they had entered the manor, they were met with a small welcome committee consisting of Luna, Noctis, who was sitting in a wheelchair, and a nurse, who was pushing the said wheelchair towards them. Maria was her name, remembered Ignis.

“Iggy!” called Noctis, opening up his arms and beaming at him. Ignis hurried to hug him tightly, though he was mindful of Noctis’ injury and tried not to aggravate it.  

“Noct, I’m so glad to see you,” said Ignis. “How have you been? How do you feel? What…”

“Now, now, young man, I am sure all the questions can wait until after the supper,” interjected Maria, although there was nothing but kindness and warmth in her expression.

“Iggy, you know, you won’t believe how many cool things Luna’s told me!” said Noctis, grinning.

“Really? I’d love to hear all about it,” said Ignis.

 

The whole group made for the dining hall, Maria leading with Noctis on his wheelchair, who kept chatting excitedly with Ignis, who, in turn, was walking right beside him. The Fleuret siblings stayed a few steps behind, sharing knowing smiles at the reunion of their guests.

 

“Hi, bro. Happy to see your friend?”  

“Seriously, where did you even pick up that one? Language, sis,” Ravus replied, huffing in mock-exasperation. “But yes. Very much so.”  

Luna stuck out her tongue at him and nudged him with her shoulder.

“Hey, do you think we could sneak out at night just like you three did in Insomnia?” she asked.

“This is not Lucis, we wouldn’t have to sneak out anywhere. We could just plan it ahead and simply go,” said Ravus, raising an eyebrow at her. But Princess Lunafreya knew better than to be outstared by her older brother, did she not? So she returned his look with a raised eyebrow of her own.

“And where would be the fun in that?”

“Tsk tsk, young lady, this is scandalous. Besides, our guests are exhausted and need to rest. I could not possibly condone this,” he said, expression stern. Then he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “But since you’re going to do it anyway, give me a knock around eleven tomorrow night - I’ll be more than happy to join you.”

“Count on it!”

 

They arrived at the dining hall, where they were joined by the Queen. The meal that followed could only be described as sumptuous - Ignis ate so much that he feared he would be unable to move out of his chair. But when the dessert was brought in, Ravus pointed one particular cake to him.

“Permit me to make a suggestion - why don't you try this one? Remember when we were talking about bees? This is a Sylleblossom honey cake.”

“Ah, I do recall,” said Ignis. He helped himself to a slice. It was a thinly layered sponge cake with a creamy filling, and when Ignis took a small bite, the explosion of taste in his mouth made him feel as if he temporarily ascended to heaven. The only thing he was able to utter was a quiet “wow”.  

“I see that Ravus shared something about our apicultural traditions with you,” said Queen Sylva, smiling pleasantly at Ignis. “Would you like to visit the beehives tomorrow?”

“If it is no trouble, I would love to, Your Majesty,” said Ignis, bowing his head lightly.

“No trouble at all.”

 

Ravus had indeed written to him about the bees.

It was quite remarkable, really. Of course, Tenebrae was famous for its Sylleblossom flowers. Ignis never really thought about it much, but it should have been obvious - flowers needed to be pollinated, after all.

‘ _You see, Queens of Tenebrae have always had a very special relationship with the bee queens in our beehives. Whenever one or the other passes away, the successor has to be formally introduced to the other queen. It is a relationship built on generations of mutual respect - our family vows to protect them, give them shelter and home, and, in return, they take care of our flowers and allow us to take the excess honey which they have produced,_ ’ was how Ravus described it.

 

After the meal, the Prince of Tenebrae was the one who led Ignis to his guest room, located just next to the one where Noctis was currently residing.

“I think I owe you an apology,” said Ignis, when they were about to part ways for the night. “You have invited me here and have been the most caring host since my arrival, and yet, I have hardly had the mind to speak with you properly.”

Ravus let out a long, weary sigh.

“Ignis. Look at me,” he said, putting both hands on Ignis’ shoulders and turning him so that they were facing each other directly. “Stop apologising. It’s _fine_ , all right? I just want you to have a good time. I’m happy that you’re here. Just… cease worrying all the time. Please?”

“I’m so-” started Ignis, and then remembered himself. “Oh. Well… I’ll try to do my best. Thank you, Ravus.”

“You’re welcome.”

 

Ignis' visit to Fenestala Manor was rather brief - it lasted only three days. But it had put his mind at ease with regards to Noctis’ condition, and was filled with new and exciting experiences.

He did indeed go with Queen Sylva to see the beehives, he saw the stars at night after sneaking out with Noctis and the Fleuret siblings, he heard about the Oracle's calling and the prophecy about the Chosen King, and he spent one rainy afternoon huddled in the library, poring over some ancient tomes about the Six together with Ravus.

Unfortunately, like all good things, his visit came to an end all too soon.

When he was about to board the train back home, he made a promise to Ravus that he would come to visit again soon.

 

A little boy in a huge world, standing on a platform, full of hopes and dreams.

Oh, just how naive that little boy had been.


	2. The plight of self-affliction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the fall of Insomnia, Ravus has to learn how to live with his new arm. Meanwhile, Ignis has battles of his own to fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to roll out this update on the 16th of May, because, you know. So here it is - behold the angst ahead, folks. This chapter might have got just a little bit out of hand. 
> 
> A great many thanks to my Uni colleague who was kind enough to beta-read this thing (despite being hit with the request completely out of blue)! The mistakes that are not here are the ones she helped me to fix. All the remaining ones are my own. 
> 
> Chapter title from: Poets of the Fall - Dying to Live

 

On May 16th of the year 756, Insomnia fell.

 

It came as a shock to everybody, but especially to the young Prince of Lucis and his companions recently departed therefrom. None of them were capable of fully comprehending just what had happened in the capital, that it took but one evening to crush their beloved home. The implications were hitting them in waves as they were driving to a hunter outpost in the northern part of Duscae to meet up with the Marshal, Cor Leonis. Their families, friends - who had survived? Who had… Well, not?

 

Ignis kept drumming his fingers on the Regalia’s steering wheel. The radio was tuned into the news broadcast. The reporting was erratic and vague at best, but it was better than nothing. He strongly believed that the more they knew, the better they will be prepared to handle the inevitable fallout. Suddenly, a familiar name spoken by the newscaster caught his attention, although, to his ears, it seemed completely out of place.

 

“Lord Ravus Nox Fleuret was recently appointed imperial high commander. However, due to grievous wounds sustained in the Citadel, he has been recalled to Niflheim for treatment…”

 

Ravus. Ravus was in the Citadel when it all happened. What was he doing there? In his gut, Ignis already suspected that he knew the answer - one does not become a high commander of the imperial army just for standing idly by. Plus, he had been wounded, and even by the most generous interpretation, Ignis could not assume that it had happened purely by accident. And yet, a stubborn, emotional part of him refused to believe it. The man he used to know so well, how could he have willingly become a part of this? What had he _done_? This train of thought was like a nauseating punch to the gut, and Ignis clenched his hands tight on the wheel, trying to stop them from shaking.

 

“Hey, you ok, Iggy?” asked Prompto, placing a hand on his forearm, a worried expression on his face. Ignis took a steadying breath and tried to relax. These were his private internal battles - his friends did not deserve to be burdened with them. They already had enough reasons for worrying. There was no need to add another one.

 

“Apologies. As fine as one can be, given the circumstances,” he said, trying to put as much conviction into these words as he could muster. Prompto nodded and dropped his hand, settling back into his seat. There was nothing much to say, really. None of the others felt inclined to inquire any further either - they all were on edge since they had left the hill overlooking Insomnia. Just who exactly was one of the enemies involved in the attack was, for the time being, secondary to the tragedy that had befallen their home.

Ignis shook his head. Whatever ghosts of the past were haunting his mind, they would need to wait. There were much more pressing matters at hand.

 

* * *

 

Lord Ravus Nox Fleuret had been confined to a hospital for the past eight days. His recovery was progressing slowly but steadily, he had been told. He had been refused by the Ring, yes, but he had lived to tell the tale. At this point, there was no longer any worry that his body would reject the magitek prosthetic.

 

He still was not sure how he felt about it. So far, his shoulder continued to be sore and swollen after the surgery - some implants, reconstruction, he really could not find it in himself to think about it or even care - but he kept trying to move his new arm experimentally from time to time. It always seemed to send faint, electrical tingling down his spine. He idly wondered if that would pass as he got his strength back.

It was… strange. He did not really feel comfortable using it as of yet - his coordination seemed to be way off, and the arm felt alien - as if it was something slightly independent of his own will. However, he had been told that with practice, he would get used to it. Other than that…

 

It was not how it was supposed to feel. He knew he should be overjoyed. His plan turned out to be a sweeping success. He had had his revenge. Insomnia fell. The cowardly King Regis was dead. Lunafreya had escaped the clutches of the Empire, at least for the time being. It should have been the best time of his life.

 

Then why did it feel so _wrong_?

 

He pinned the numbness on the painkillers, he wrote off nausea as a side effect of the surgery, and besides, did he really need to eat? They were pouring nutrients into him intravenously anyway. The hollow feeling in his chest? Just tired. The Kings of Yore were not kind on him, after all. Simple, logical explanations.

 

Over the past twelve years, he had become an expert in lying for the sake of his sister and out of the sheer need for self-preservation. He was lying on his own behalf, on Luna’s behalf, and on behalf of the Empire. He was lying about the observable facts, about his own thoughts and feelings, and then he was lying about the lies themselves. He was doing it with practised ease, without batting an eye. He did not take pride in it. It was a necessity. Although he drew a strict line at lying to himself, at this point, what difference did a few more little lies make?

But in his heart of hearts, he already knew.

And in all honesty, that was almost more than he could bear.

 

He filled his days with staring blankly at the ceiling, quietly following the instructions of the medical personnel and Chief Besithia whenever they came around to check on him, change his bandages, or administer yet another dose of medication. While he had never had a reputation for being particularly verbose, he was exceptionally quiet even per his usual standards. He was answering only to directly asked questions, and even that, he did solely in monosyllables.

 

Outside the white walls of his hospital room, there was a world that kept moving forward. There were so many things to do, so much work, so many intrigues and plans and schemes. There was the war, there was the politics. There was the power of the Crystal to be harnessed, all hail the Emperor Aldercapt.

Ravus wanted nothing to do with any of it.

 

But on that eighth day, the monotony was broken by an unannounced appearance of a visitor - the Imperial Chancellor Ardyn Izunia.

“Good day to you, Commander! Or shall I say, High Commander? How are we feeling today?” he said cheerfully, taking off his hat in a sweeping gesture.

 

Ravus did not make even the slightest move to acknowledge his presence, nor did he show a single sign that he had heard any of his questions. He kept staring straight ahead, motionless. Verstael took Ardyn by the arm and led him to the side.

 

“We believe he’s in shock, Chancellor,” he said in a hushed voice, but not hushed enough for Ravus not to hear it. “The encounter with the Kings of Lucis has taken a heavy toll on both his body and mind. It is hard to tell how long full recovery will take.”  

“That is not good, not good at all. I’m afraid we’ve got no time to waste. The army needs its leader,” said Ardyn, not bothering to lower his voice. Ravus tried to focus. Time for what? He slowly rolled his head to the side to look at the two men arguing about him.  
  
“With all due respect, Chancellor, the Commander is still in no condition to return to work.”  
  
“We need to convene a meeting about that unfortunate predicament regarding the missing Oracle,” said Ardyn, turning in such a way that he could look directly at Ravus, clearly addressing him. “Your attendance will also be of the utmost importance, Verstael,” he added, his eyes never leaving Ravus’.

The Oracle. Lunafreya. Of course, of course, how stupid had he been? The Empire would not just let her go without a fight. They would have to decide what to do about her. What if Ravus was ordered to kill her? No, that discussion could not happen without him.

 

“I must strongly advise against-”  
  
“I will go,” said Ravus, his voice quiet and hoarse from disuse. “If I am required to be back in the line of duty, so be it.” He made an attempt at sitting up, but a sudden wave of dizziness caused him to lose his balance, and he grabbed at the bed frame with his prosthetic arm, trying to stabilise himself. There was a horrible screech, and Ravus could only stare, blinking, uncomprehending. The metal frame had twisted completely out of shape in his grip - it had deformed just as easily as wet clay would.

The silence that followed was abruptly broken by a deep, low chuckle.  

  
“Ah, my dear Verstael, wonderful! What a masterpiece you have gifted our intrepid  Commander with,” said Ardyn with a wide smile on his face. Besithia, however, pursed his lips into a thin line. His tone was much more sombre.

  
“Your new arm is imbued with incredible powers. You will need to learn how to harness them and how to control your own strength. I hope you are quick on the uptake - you won’t have much room for error,” he said. Then he sighed and reached into the cupboard to pull out a small bottle. “Again - I think that this is an inadvisable course of action. Yet if you insist, here. These pills will help you push through. No more than thrice a day. But I must warn you, Commander - you will pay for it later.”

“Now, now, that sounds like a threat. Surely, there is no need for that?” said Ardyn, feigning concern so well that if someone did not know any better, they could have almost been fooled.

“If it is a threat, then it is one from the mother nature herself. Human bodies are flawed so…” sighed Verstael. “We shall remedy that, one day.”

 

Ravus barely registered a single word from that conversation. He kept looking at his prosthetic and the twisted bed frame. He was sure that he had not applied any force at all - not given how weakened he otherwise was. There was just one thought, banging loudly around his horrified mind.    
_‘Astrals, just what have I become? ’  
_

* * *

 

Fortunately for Ravus, he was indeed a fast learner. He had to be - otherwise, he would have most likely already been dead years before. But learning how to use his new arm without harming himself or breaking everything he touched was an arduous, frustrating process, fraught with difficulty. For the next several days, he had to rely a lot on his attendants, even with such mundane things like shaving. He hated it. He did not trust anyone with a blade around his throat, but at that point, he trusted himself even less. On the bright side, such arrangement allowed him to avoid looking at himself in the mirror.

 

When Ravus had first seen his own reflection after leaving the hospital, he had barely recognised the man that was staring at him out of it. The sharpness of his features, the mess of completely white hair, the thin, faintly pink lines stretching from where his prosthetic was attached to his shoulder, the haunted look in his strange heterochromatic eyes. His stomach convulsed and had he had anything in it to throw up with, he would have.

 

He had been avoiding mirrors ever since.

 

He put himself more or less together remarkably fast, though. Ardyn, much to Ravus’ annoyance, seemed to know all his buttons and which of them to push to put him into a state of high alert. A reminder that his sister’s fate was at stake was just what he needed to shake off some of the numbness that had begun dominating his life. The Chancellor did not have to trouble himself with coming to the hospital and telling him any of this. Whether the fact that he did was an act of kindness or malice, Ravus could not tell.

What also helped was that the pills that he had received were, true to Besithia’s word, almost frighteningly effective. And if at the end of the day he crashed onto his bed exhausted and drained, and awoke in the morning wishing he had not… well.

 

It was all just about enough for him to successfully put on a mask of a proud imperial high commander. He covered his new arm with an imposing armour, making sure that all his subordinates understood the power within it. He was diligent and efficient in the execution of his duties. Well… Mostly. Somewhat mysteriously, whenever the Oracle was concerned, something always prevented her capture. These were all very good, external reasons, and not even the harshest critics could accuse Ravus of as much as a hint of negligence. They had even had an inspector general look into the matter, and she had concluded that all the procedures were adhered to and not a single officer had been shrinking from their duties.

When asked directly, the High Commander tended to shrug and reply with “the fates are devious by nature. We shall turn the tide yet,” and that was that.

 

Ravus was really good at this.

 

He knew that he was being almost constantly watched - there were many who were hawkishly waiting for even the most minuscule misstep on his part and who would love to see him brought down. He was an outsider, which many a Niflheim nationalist found outrageous. He was also quite young for a high commander of the entire imperial army, which annoyed some of the older, more seasoned military men. Zealots claimed that he was too soft because he was not ruthless enough, and activists rallied against his dispassionate and cold-blooded command. Among his ranks, he was broadly respected but not particularly liked.

This was why he made sure that there was no way anyone could in any way prove that he was communicating with the Oracle, even though that was precisely what he was doing. Even if somebody had spent an entire day looking over his shoulder when he was writing at his desk, they would not have found anything that could even resemble a secret letter. There were some documents and memos, and occasional scraps of paper on which he was making calculations of the costs, losses, gains, and casualties, which were necessary for his reports. Sometimes he was doodling idly on the margins, lost in thought before making a decision on the most appropriate course of action. Nothing out of ordinary.

 

Except that these were not doodles at all, but messages in a script which he and Luna had developed as children in order to communicate in secret.

They had created it for fun, and it was imperfect and rather limited, but oh, how useful it had proven to be. They had improved upon it over the years of imperial occupation of their homeland. The two of them were the only people on the entire Eos who could read it.

As for the delivery…  who would notice if he accidentally left one of these scraps somewhere in the open every now and then, or if another fell out of his pocket while he was passing through the lands on his tour of Lucis, and if sometime later, a white dog picked it up? And even if somebody did notice, and that somebody bothered to pick the paper up to look at it, they would have discarded it immediately as plain trash.

 

Somehow, as erratic and unpredictable as it seemed, it was working. The notes were helping Lunafreya to always remain a few steps ahead of the imperial forces. And nobody had ever suspected a thing. Well… barring one.

 

The only person Ravus never seemed to be able to fool was Chancellor Izunia. He hated him with a burning passion. Whenever Ardyn looked at him with his knowing smirk, Ravus felt as if all of his secrets were laid bare, open for the world to see, as if all of his plots and lies were as transparent as a freshly cleaned window glass. Yet, Ardyn never seemed to be doing anything about it. He never threatened to expose him, never whispered a word to the Emperor. Perhaps the fact that Ardyn knew that Ravus knew that Ardyn knew gave him enough satisfaction as it was. Still, he had a penchant for flaunting this knowledge through cryptic remarks at the most inopportune moments, and that was one of the approximately ten thousand reasons why he was precisely the last person to whom Ravus wanted to talk after a lengthy meeting with the top leadership at Aracheole Stronghold.

 

Which was probably exactly why, after he left the situation room, he was accosted by none other than the said Chancellor.

  
“Ah, High Commander. Fancy meeting you here, I have just been thinking about speaking to you!” he said with his signature smirk. Ravus cursed inwardly. He really was in no mood for this.  
  
“About?” he said, putting on his most impassive talking-to-Ardyn face.

“I was wondering, don’t you think it rather curious that the Archean should elect to awake at this particular time?”

Oh. That conversation.

“Unfathomable are the caprices of the Six.”  
  
“Or perhaps, someone with, say, the power to commune with the gods happened to speak to him?”

  
Not a single muscle twitched on Ravus’ face. He held Ardyn’s gaze for a couple of seconds, and then arched one eyebrow, in a manner suggesting that he should either promptly explain what he was getting at or get lost, with a strong preference for the latter.

 

“Well, don’t you suppose that with the Oracle at large, the army should have expressed a touch more foresight and installed a blockade around the Disc earlier, so that she would have been captured already?”  
  
“Are you questioning my discretion, Chancellor?” asked Ravus, his voice ice-cold. He was not going to let the bastard have the satisfaction.

“Oh, I would never! I only hoped that you would be so kind as to humour the old man’s curiosity,” said Ardyn, acting deeply wounded by the allegation.

“We have received the intelligence belatedly. It is all laid out in my report. Of which the copy, may I remind you, Chancellor, has been delivered to your desk.”

“Of course, of course,” said Ardyn, raising his hands up in a placating gesture. “But now, if you'll excuse me, I have a business of my own with our runaway prince.”  He turned on his heel, but then paused, and swiftly turned back again to throw a small object at Ravus. The commander caught is effortlessly and opened up his palm to see what exactly it was. It turned out to be a bottle full of pills. “I almost forgot. Chief Besithia sends his regards.”  
Ravus gave him a curt nod and slid the bottle into his coat pocket.

 

“I suggest that after we have concluded our business here in Lucis, you could consider taking a few days off. Fare thee well, High Commander,” said Ardyn, and with that, he walked away. Ravus remained motionless until he could no longer hear the echo of his footsteps sounding through the corridors. Then he allowed himself to scowl in irritation.

  
Damned be the man and the chocobo he rode in on. Of course, he knew that Ravus was actually planning on returning to Tenebrae for a while after they were done in Lucis, though he had not spoken to anyone about it yet. The official version was that he needed a break on account of his health - after all, he had resumed his duties before he had fully recovered, all because of his incredible devotion to the mission of the Empire. Or something. There was a grain of truth in that - Ravus was beginning to acutely feel just what Chief Besithia meant by saying that he was going to pay for his premature discharge.

But the real reason behind this was that he was planning on aiding Lunafreya in returning to the relative safety of Fenestala Manor, from where he could secure her a safe passage to Accordo.

 

But… maybe he could use Ardyn’s parting words to his advantage. He could say that he decided to follow the kind words of advice generously offered to him by the Chancellor, bless the ever-shining light of the Emperor for appointing, in his infinite wisdom, such considerate officials. Or words to that effect. That would make his case for travelling to Tenebrae even sounder. Except that this meant that it was exactly where Ardyn wanted to have him, and Ravus could not say that he felt comfortable with that prospect.  

He sighed deeply and made for his quarters. Worrying about it would not change anything. He would have to carry on and hope for the best.  
  


* * *

  
Hoping for the best was something that the Prince of Lucis and his entourage were desperately trying to do and, for the most part, were failing miserably at. Things were slowly starting to look up, though. According to Iris, Lady Lunafreya had apparently managed to escape relatively unscathed from Insomnia, though exactly where she was at present and what she was doing remained a mystery. Thanks to Talcott, they had managed to retrieve a royal weapon from the depths of the Glacial Grotto hidden behind a waterfall, and they were currently staying in a motel on their way back to Lestallum.

 

Per usual, Ignis was the first one to get up. He quickly got dressed and left the room, not to disturb his sleeping friends just yet. He made his way to the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee, which he intended to drink in peace before he started on breakfast. He turned on the radio and set the kettle boiling.

They were making progress, yes, he thought, as he was leaning against a kitchen counter with a steaming cup in his hand. Yet he could not help but worry. Noctis’ headaches were troubling, and they had been getting ever more persistent and vicious. There was some connection between them and the earthquakes, without a shadow of a doubt, but Ignis could not put his finger on the specifics, no matter how much he was racking his brain for ideas.

 

“Growing seismic activity has shaken Duscae of late. A number of tremors, which locals refer to as “Titan’s Snoring,” have been recorded in the region. While the area has always been earthquake prone…” came the voice from the radio. Well, there was a piece of folk knowledge. Ignis knew better than to dismiss it out of hand - they were dealing with the ghosts of the dead kings already, so suspicions of the divine involvement were not too far out of bounds.

His gloomy musings were interrupted by Gladio, who had just entered the kitchen, stretching and yawning.

 

“Good morning,” greeted him Ignis.

“‘Sup,” grunted Gladio, slumping heavily onto a kitchen chair. Ignis quickly fixed him a cup of coffee, and Gladio accepted it gratefully. “You’re a godsend, Iggy.”

“Merely a humble acolyte of Her Grace Caffeine,” said Ignis, finishing his own drink and setting off on the task of preparing the food. There was still some time before either Prompto or Noctis got up, but since Gladio was already there, it was just the right moment to start. “Any special breakfast wishes?”

“Dunno, something with calories in it will be great.”

“Mightily helpful,” said Ignis, rolling his eyes, though he could not help but smile. He decided to make pancakes with bacon and eggs - perhaps not really the healthiest option imaginable, but after spending hours in the narrow, slippery tunnels the day before he felt that they had earned themselves a little indulgence.

 

He let his mind wander when he was mixing the ingredients and heating up the pan, but the broadcast on the radio had yet again caught his attention.

 

“... thousands have flocked to Fenestala Manor in Tenebrae to pay their respects. Pilgrims have spared no expense, travelling from afar by boat and train. Many expected a eulogy courtesy of Lord Ravus, Lady Lunafreya’s brother and the last of the Oracle’s line. But Lord Ravus has avoided the view of the public eye since the bloodshed at the signing ceremony, causing many to worry about his well-being,” concluded the newscaster.

 

Ignis winced, feeling at least to some degree called out. He really could not afford to get sidetracked - worrying about the imperial high commander was the last thing that should be on his mind. Yet… a few barely legible lines scribbled in an erratic hand as if in haste or distress in one of the last letters he had received from Ravus had been… disconcerting.

_‘Is there a limit to what can be forgiven? I beg you - pray for me, Ignis. Pray that I never have to find out.’_

Ravus was rarely so openly emotional in his letters. But such cryptic comments had been becoming more frequent before the correspondence had stopped altogether. Ravus never elaborated on them. Ignis never asked him to.

_‘Do you know how long it takes to wash off the stench of smoke from your skin?’_

He sighed deeply and flipped the pancake to the other side before it could get burnt.

 

Gladio had been watching him this entire time, and something was clearly on his mind. He finally asked, “when was the last time you heard from him?”

Ignis all but jumped at the question, having almost forgotten that he was not alone, but collected himself quickly. Gladio knew about his friendship with Ravus, at least in the most general terms. Being as attuned to the moods of the people around him as he was, it only stood to reason that he would bring that one up. There was no point in playing dumb and pretending that he had no idea what Gladio was talking about.

“Over a year ago, give or take,” he said, without turning away from the stove.

“Huh,” said Gladio, and left it at that. He reached out his hand and turned off the radio, and Ignis gave him a nod as a silent ‘thank you’ in reply. That was probably for the best.

They spent the next fifteen minutes in companionable silence, filled only with the sizzling coming from the frying pan.

  
“Almost ready,” said Ignis, turning off the heat, and moving to the take plates out of the cupboard.  
  
“Awesome, I’ll go grab the kids,” said Gladio.

  
“Much appreciated.”

 

* * *

 

Two covenants with the gods later, the four friends were on their mission to retrieve their car from the hands of the Empire.

“We move under the cover of darkness,” declared Ignis while laying out the strategy for the attack.  

  
Of course, it did not work out exactly as planned. These things never do. But wreaking havoc in the imperial base with a bit of divine help from Ramuh had been probably the most satisfying thing that had happened to them in a while - a taste of revenge for the fall of Insomnia.

So when they were walking back to the Regalia, patting each other on the backs after a job well done, their spirits were high. Up to a point.

“Uhm, guys…!” called Prompto, sounding suddenly alarmed.

  
Ignis turned and sucked in a sharp breath.

  
A cue; enter High Commander Ravus Nox Fleuret, his steps swift and confident, blade drawn, expression determined.

  
‘ _He’s lost weight,_ ’ was the first thought that came to Ignis’ mind, as it dumbly decided to hyperfocus on that particular detail. The second thought was no better:  ‘ _That somehow adds to how outrageously attractive he is_ ’.

The third thought, prompted by the finesse with which Ravus wielded his sword, did not vocalise itself in his mind, but went directly downwards, causing his trousers to suddenly feel embarrassingly and inappropriately tight.

“Be still… all of you,” said Ravus, stopping Ignis with an effortless gesture of his prosthetic arm, briefly looking him straight in the eye, mismatched irises meeting the clear, bright emerald, and averting his gaze just as hastily.

Ignis wanted to say something. On the tip of his tongue, he had a myriad of questions, accusations, demands, pleas for any sort of explanation, all boiling underneath nauseating waves of confusion and arousal that threatened to drown him. But the words stuck and died in his throat, and he remained pinned down to a spot, speechless. His arms slumped down against his will as if the look in these cold, piercing eyes had drained all the willpower out of his body.

He did not move as the magitek arm closed on Noctis’ throat and pushed him violently back.

He did not move as the powerful swing of the deadly, dark blade sent Gladio flying and hitting the car behind him.

He did not move as Prompto scrambled up to the Shield’s side to help him.

He did not move as Noctis summoned his Armiger, ready to fight.

The sudden appearance of Ardyn gave him the necessary distraction, and he was finally able to force his body into compliance, to resume his fighting stance.

 

Ravus clearly was not Ardyn’s biggest fan, for he immediately turned away once the other had arrived, allowing his hair to obscure his face and avoiding looking at anyone in particular. In vain had Ignis tried to catch his eye throughout the entire exchange with the Chancellor. He could only stare helplessly as the two Niflheim officials walked away.

 

“Uhm… you guys know that guy?” asked Prompto, still mildly shell-shocked by the entire situation.

Ignis was surprised by the pure, unobscured bitterness colouring his own voice when he replied.

“Ravus Nox Fleuret, first son of Tenebrae... and elder brother to Lady Lunafreya.”

 

* * *

 

Ravus was furious. The nerve of that pompous calamity of a chancellor!

If the high commander wanted to stress how he was the one in charge, Ardyn’s little spectacle had proven the exact opposite of that. How dare he just shoo him away like that, as if he was some unruly errand boy? It was a pure humiliation, and Ravus hated it. But what he could not forgive himself for was that he himself, instead of showing defiance, retreated with his tail between his legs. Of course, he knew he could not afford to antagonise Izunia, not with all that the man seemed to know about him and with how much was still at stake. Shut up, toe the line, do not look them in the eye - that had been his survival strategy for years. It would have been stupid to just throw it away in a second because of his wounded pride. And yet, he could not ignore the tiny voice whispering _‘you coward’_ in the back of his mind.

Perhaps that was something he hated even more.

   

And then, there was Ignis.

Oh, that one hurt.

He had been actively trying not to think about his childhood friend for over a year at that point. He had told himself at the time that he had to burn down all the bridges - he could not have any attachments left in Insomnia, not if he wanted to successfully execute the plan that had just begun taking shape in his mind. He even had had a huge argument with Luna about this - not the plan, he never told her about it, but about Ignis - she accused him of throwing away everything he once held dear, to which he snapped back that he had no choice and that she should stop meddling in the things she did not comprehend. The insults kept flying and they were shouting until their throats were sore and raw, until they both were completely out of breath. The row had had Ravus storming off and Lunafreya in tears. When they saw each other the next morning, both of them were sporting puffy eyes and red noses, and she coldly told him that she was going to respect his wishes and if he wanted to ruin one of the very few good things left in his life, so be it, she would not interfere. They had not spoken for weeks afterwards.  

 

Seeing the young advisor after all these years had brought about a tsunami of memories and conflicting emotions which broke through carefully sealed floodgates in the recesses of his mind. The look of utter betrayal in those emerald eyes… Ravus could not face it.

But he had made a choice. A friendship in exchange for his sister’s life was not a price too high to pay. And if, perhaps, when tearing out his heart, he accidentally ripped out a bit of his humanity with it… he did not want to think about it too much.

 _The first bit of humanity_ , corrected a tiny voice in his head, and he scowled, clenching his prosthetic fist.

 

He was about to board a ship when a voice stopped him.

“Ah, High Commander, a word before you go,” called Ardyn. Ravus scowled. Did he not have enough words already? Swallowing his irritation, he stopped and tried to compose himself, although he refused to turn around.

  
“A little bird has told me that Commodore Highwind has been entertaining the idea of taking a short vacation in your homeland. Perhaps you could consider asking her for a lift?” said Ardyn, slowly catching up to him. Then suddenly, he grabbed his arm and leaned in to whisper into his ear. “Her ship will not be stopped by overzealous border inspectors and she doesn’t ask questions.”

  
Ravus took a deep breath, counted to ten in his mind, and then twisted his arm out of Ardyn’s grip, finally turning to face him.

“And why should that be of any concern to me?” he asked, putting as much calm and coldness into his words as humanly possible.

Ardyn took a step back and inclined his head so that the rim of his hat was obscuring most of his face. What was showing underneath was just his amused, knowing smirk.  
  
“No reason at all.”

 

* * *

 

  
Commodore Aranea Highwind was not thrilled when she received a summons from High Commander Fleuret, but an order was an order. She was swiftly making her way through the corridors of a field base, heading to the high commander’s temporary office. She kept wondering what was that all about. Such summons was an unusually rare occurrence, and she did not think that it boded well for her future.

 

Regarding bureaucracy and day-to-day operations of the military, the high commander much preferred to communicate with his officers through memos and staff members. This style of command suited Aranea well - there was something downright unsettling about the guy, and the less time she had to spend with him, the better.

Besides, she thought, no man so emotionally repressed should ever have access to the entire military might of the Empire.

  
She supposed it did make sense, though. With so many high-ranking officials wanting to tear him to shreds, it was only logical that he would want a clear paper trail for everything just to cover his ass.

Somehow, she could not blame either him or them for that.

 

She reached the door, schooled her features into a careful mask, intended specifically for talking to her superiors, and knocked. When she heard the permission to enter, she opened the door and walked in.

  
“Sir,” she said, standing at attention and saluting. The high commander was sitting behind his desk, clearly preoccupied with his work.   

“At ease.” Ravus was just finishing reading some document. He signed on it, put down his pen and finally looked up at her. She did not return his gaze but kept staring carefully just a few inches above his right shoulder. He stayed silent for a few moments, assessing her, and apparently satisfied, spoke again. “Tell me, Commodore Highwind, how would you like a prospect of taking a couple of days off?”

“Sir?” That was not exactly what she was expecting.

  
“I’ve been told that you would be rather keen on visiting Tenebrae. Is that correct?”

  
“Yessir.” She was fully set on keeping her answers short and simple. She did not suppose that the man would be the type to welcome any sort of elaboration.

  
“Good. I need transport to Fenestala Manor two days from now, and taking the flagship would be an enormous waste of resources. I intend to travel light - just me and one or two attendants. I imagine you and your crew could provide that?”

  
“Yessir!”  
  
“Then it is settled. I shall grant you three days of paid leave for after we have arrived, in recognition of your exceptional service thus far. I’m afraid our operation would not allow for more.” Ravus looked as if he wanted to say something more, but then decided against it. He picked up the pen instead and returned to his work. Still, Aranea was surprised. That was probably the highest number of sentences that she had ever heard the man speak in a row. Ravus paused in his writing, realising that she was still in the room. “That is all, Commodore. Dismissed.”

  
“Yes, Sir!” She yet again straightened into attention and saluted. She was about to turn around and leave, but she hesitated for a moment. “Sir?”  
  
“Yes, Commodore?” Ravus lifted his gaze from his paperwork and arched an eyebrow at her.     
  
“Thank you, Sir,” she said. The high commander’s eyebrow rose even higher, his expression otherwise inscrutable, but then he just gave her a short nod in response, and that was it.

 

All in all, that could have gone worse, thought Aranea on her way back to her ship. Three days of a paid leave in Tenebrae? They did not just grow on trees like that. It was awfully generous of the High Commander, and of course, it made her immediately suspicious. He did not seem to be the type to be particularly interested in the wishes or emotional well-being of his officers. But she quickly dismissed these concerns. Maybe she had just been misjudging him the whole time? Or maybe not, and there were some other reasons behind it. It did not really matter. ‘ _So long as the cash adds up, who cares?’_  

 

* * *

 

Aranea was absolutely right in one respect. So long as his orders were followed to the letter, Ravus really did not care about the personal lives of his subordinates. He barely had his own together as it were, so even if he wished to, his would not be the shoulder anyone would want to cry on. For more than one obvious reason.

That being said, he respected them. Not all, of course, the notable exception being, among others, Caligo Ulldor - Ravus thought him a despicable human being. But he held a careful sort of regard, coloured with a hint of admiration, for Aranea. She was a mercenary, yes, but one with principles. She was fierce and bold, unafraid to speak her mind whenever she was morally opposed to something.

That was much more than Ravus could say about himself.

She was also smart. Somewhat ironically, the facial expression she wore when talking to him was exactly the same that he used when talking to his superiors. He was loath to admit it, but it bothered him, in a way. He did not enjoy being thrown into the same bag with Izunia, Besithia, or the Emperor - he wanted to believe that he had absolutely nothing in common with them. This was proof he was wrong - to many others, he was just another poster child for everything that was wrong with the Niflheim Empire.  

 

Such were Ravus’ thoughts as he, followed by a single trooper, was climbing the ramp leading to Commodore Highwind’s ship.

“Welcome on board,” said Aranea, not bothering with sirs or salutes. She felt much more comfortable in this setting - it was her ship, after all. Ravus merely nodded, not bothering to scold her for her lack of formality.

It was, after all, her ship.

 

Aranea gave the trooper who came with Fleuret a critical look. Despite the full armour, just one glance told her that it was a woman. And a newbie at that.

Oh, dear.

 

One of Aranea’s eyebrows rose high up her forehead. Since the very first time she laid her eyes on the High Commander she had been convinced that the guy was gayer than a bagful of dicks, but well, one could never be completely sure about those things.

 

“Hey, no slacking, gal,” she said, amused. “You’re holding a gun, not a mop.”

 

“I would very much appreciate if you kept your comments to those within your charge, Commodore,” snapped Ravus, scowling in mild irritation.

Ah, of course. Touchy.

“Aye-aye, Sir,” she said, turning away to hide a grin spreading on her face, and marched towards the bridge to give a takeoff order.

Oh, well.

 

* * *

 

One good thing about travelling with the high commander was that he was a very quiet sort of passenger.

It was a bad thing, in a way, as well. His presence was rather intimidating and was making Aranea’s crew quite nervous. She had tried to strike up a conversation with him but gave up after the first couple of failed attempts, so she just prepared herself for several more hours of awkward silence.

 

“General Ulldor on the line, Lady A!” called Biggs from where he was sitting at his console.  

“Oh, no,” groaned Aranea. She did not need that guy on top of everything else. “I’m on holidays, tell him to go fuck himself, alright?”  

  
“On it, Lady A!”

 

Ravus snorted, and Aranea turned to look at him in surprise.

“Not the biggest fan of the general?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Not particularly,” admitted Ravus, and a corner of his lips twitched up in amusement.

“Lady A, the General says that if you don’t come talk to him right this instant he’ll report you to the high commander!”

The quirk of Ravus’ lips morphed into something that, by the most generous standards, could be almost called a grin. Aranea gave him an assessing look and came to a decision.

“Tell Ulldor that the High Commander also wants him to go fuck himself,” she said.

“Aye-aye, Lady A!”

Ravus rolled his eyes but did not disagree with this depiction of his wishes regarding Caligo and his immediate future.

  
Somehow, that exchange seemed to relieve some of the tension on the bridge, and even if Ravus had not spoken again till the end of the journey, the atmosphere seemed much more relaxed.

 

When they finally landed in front of Fenestala Manor, Ravus got off the ship with an air of relief. He was home, finally.  

“Permission to start my leave, Sir?” asked Aranea.

“Granted. Report back in three days, I will inform you whether I will be requiring transport again,” said Ravus, nodding to her.  
  
“Yessir!” she said and was about to disappear back into the ship when the high commander stopped her again.  
  
“Ah, Commodore, one last thing,” he said.  
  
“Sir?” She paused. Ravus looked as if he was not quite sure how to say whatever he was meaning to, and stood a bit awkwardly in the middle of a grassy field.

“Thank you,” he said finally, carefully testing the words as if they were from a completely foreign language. Aranea blinked in surprise.

  
“Sure thing,” she said after a moment of hesitation, not really knowing what else to do.

Ravus nodded curtly and turned to walk towards the mansion, followed by his trooper.

Aranea shook her head and made for the bridge.

Well, ok. That happened.

 

* * *

 

Ravus stood on the steps leading to the manor, watching the red ship take off and disappear into the clouds. Picking Highwind turned out to be an excellent choice, after all. Or at least, so it seemed. He sighed, and finally entered the building that was his home.

 

“Lord Ravus, bless the stars, you’re back! How have you been?” Maria greeted him warmly, but paused, eyeing the trooper warily. Ravus waved her concern away, and instead took a careful look around the room.

“We’re alone,” said Maria, but her expression turned into one of worry. “But where is…? Did you manage to…?”

  
“I’m here, Maria,” said a female voice. Maria gasped, as the trooper unceremoniously dropped the gun onto a table and took off the helmet.

  
“Oh, Lady Lunafreya, thank the Six!” The woman was close to tears, so Luna quickly unbuckled the gauntlets and immediately approached her to take her hands into her own.  
  
“Peace, Maria, I am safe and well,” she said, smiling. Maria returned the smile and tried to compose herself.  
  
“You must be exhausted. I shall prepare your rooms and supper,” she said, bowed and rushed off in high spirits. Luna watched her go, and let out a long, weary sigh. She turned to Ravus, who kept standing to the side, watching them without a saying word.

  
“Well, that was dreadful,” she said, gesturing towards the discarded pieces of armour and proceeded to remove the rest of it. “But I’m glad that it’s over. We did it, brother!” Luna’s eyes glistened with a fire of determination. “Soon, I will be able to travel to Altissia and… Ravus?”

  
He lowered his gaze and his shoulders slumped down. His whole body was beginning to shake.

“Lunafreya,” he said, and it came out as a choked sob.

  
“Oh, Ravus,” she sighed, taking off the last piece of armour, and took a step in his direction. He met her halfway, and they fell into each other’s arms, Ravus openly sobbing now. “Hush, it’s ok, it’s ok, we’re home now, I’m alive,” she kept whispering, holding him tight.

“Lunafreya… I’m sorry,” he murmured into her hair, silently begging her to understand the full weight of what he was trying to say.

She did, and tightened her arms around him.

* * *

 

Ignis had been quite shaken since the incident at the Aracheole Stronghold.

Ravus… No. High Commander Fleuret, he thought with a hint of annoyance. That was it. He should not allow himself to think of him by any other name.

He was not particularly keen on it, but when they were driving to Lestallum, of course, the subject of the commander and his prosthetic came up. It was strange, as was his strength. Ignis did not like that a single bit.

 

“Hey, Iggy, why are you so wound up about that Ravus guy?” asked Prompto suddenly, perhaps sensing a mote of tension in him that had been slightly different than from the other guys.

 

“Huh, I guess you wouldn’t know,” said Gladio, and Ignis was eternally grateful to him for relieving him from having to answer that question.   

 

“Wouldn’t know what?”

 

“Iggy and Ravus used to be pen pals. They knew each other pretty well,” explained Noctis, though his tone carried a note of bitterness in it. Ignis sympathised with it quite a lot.

 

“But… that must have been a long time ago, right? Like, because of that imperial occupation later…” said Prompto.

 

“Actually, not really. You know that journal that Noct is using to talk to Lady Lunafreya? She suggested that they could send their letters through it if they wanted to talk,” said Gladio.

 

“Aaah, I see…” hummed Prompto. Then he brightened up. “Hey, maybe he told you something about the Empire that might be helpful to us now?”

 

“No, he didn’t,” snapped Ignis, finally breaking his silence, and it came off much sharper than he intended. “I guess for him it was a way to escape anything related to the Empire, and I didn’t push. Maybe I should have, maybe-” he paused. Then he took a deep breath to collect himself. “My apologies. I do not wish to talk about this.”

 

“Oh - okay, sorry, Iggy, I didn’t know it was a sore spot,” said Prompto, apologetic as always, bless his innocent soul.

 

“Don’t mention it.”

 

"Whatever he used to be way back when doesn't really matter, though. Now he's just another imperial lapdog,” concluded Gladio, massaging his bruised arm.

 

 _I wonder_ , thought Ignis, but did not say it out loud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will, just like the first, be flashback-heavy, and probably shorter than this one - we shall see, though. Stay tuned!

**Author's Note:**

> Come scream at me about FFXV and other stuff on tumblr [@lovely-yet-loveless](https://lovely-yet-loveless.tumblr.com/)


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